My own Beast
by DA KLOWN
Summary: This an Alternate Ending I did for an English class...I liked it, and I got a good grade on it, so I decided heck, why not. Ralph contends with the Lord of the Flies, while Jack and his tribe have him on the run.


**_Lord of the Flies: Alternate Ending_**

By: DA KLOWN. (Wow...sencond fanfic sumbission in like, a year...>>)

(I'm starting from when Ralph has just emerged from the thicket and is being chased by the "savages")

Run.

"I am."

Well then run faster.

"I am. I am, I am, I…" In between convincing himself that he was going to live, and paying attention to where he was running to, Ralph had tripped over an all-to-familiar piece of something in his path. He muttered a quiet string of obscenities through his head before looking at the half-smile he had knocked out of place. Ralph glared at the Lord of the Flies, which now held a smug, crooked (literally) grin.

"You did this."

Did I now?

Ralph blinked his face then contorting into an incredulous stare.

"Yes, you did this! You…you…"

How could **I **possibly do anything? Blaming me for their narrow-minded insolence isn't going to solve anything.

Ralph simply gave a frustrated sigh, and pushed himself off the heap of burnt and smashed up creepers, sticks and dirt. They've already been here apparently, he thought. There seemed to be a small dip in where he fell, so the elevation was somewhat uneven. The creepers and branches had also been slashed, cut off, and burnt on the edges, making a sort of covering in the five by six foot "dip". Meaning that if I just re arrange the creepers and stuff, I could hide here for awhile, then once they run past, I could run back to the other direction, Ralph thought. And with that, he scanned the area, and carefully started arranging his "supplies" about the dip, the crooked grin watching his all the time.

They're savages, remember. They know the lay of the land far better than you do…heck, without you in charge they _own _it. This isn't helping.

"Shut up," Ralph spat at the grin, "and they're _not_ savages. They just…"

Just what? Tell me. Because if they aren't savages I obviously don't know, and since you're such an _expert_...

"Alright! Alright! Maybe they are, but they weren't that way before...they weren't…"

How do you think they got this way? Hmmm? Do tell. How do British schoolboys become savages over the course of a month? How? It's not like someone told them to. But then again, who was here to stop them?

"Stop…"

Or is that what they were all along? It just took something to trigger it. Being here for instance. With no authority. There's one right there. Let's brainstorm, shall we? Come on! Think!

"Stop it."

There's the authority he had too. And maybe, just maybe it was the fact you were chosen as leader. The fact that you favored getting rescued over hunting? And your friend, Piggy, Oh Piggy-

"Stop it! SHUT UP!" Ralph turned and kicked the half-grin again, landing at another angle. Now it resembled not a frown, but more of an indifferent glare of sorts.

Oh, now look what you've done.

"Leave me alone will you?" Ralph lay down in his make shift bed and pulled his creeper afghan over him and the hole.

Oh, like hiding's going to keep me away. That's right, that'll shut me up.

Ralph groaned. Just ignore it. It'll go away.

I can't leave you know. You think I'm someone else, hum? But I'm not. You know it. This is what you really think.

Ralph knew this was true, but chose to ignore it. No sooner did he ignore it that he drifted to sleep.

Voices. You hear, don't you? If I hear them, then certainly you must…

"Wha…?" And voices there were. Children. Young boys.

The savages. They've found you.

"Shhh!"

Shhh? Who are you telling to "Shhh"? I'm not the one making noise.

"Shut up!"

"I heard it!"

"Over there!"

A loud voice rode above the others. Loud, harsh, orderly. Jack's voice.

"Where is it? Where? Samneric? Tell me."

"…We don't…"

"That is we don't hear-"

"Yes you do! Where are they! You've know all along haven't you? You…" There was a shove, and a snap of spears. Then there were whimpers that grew to cries, and then became distant.

There goes your cover.

"Shut up will y-"

"There! Chief! He's there."

"In the trap."

"Just like you said!"

Heh. You hear that? "Just like he said," eh?

Ralph began to sweat. His heart thumped in his chest. There was nothing to do. He could run, but there was no escape, no room to run. Not here. Then, all at once, it seemed to hit. Not hard, just a slow steady realization. This is how it is now. This is how it's going to be. There's no escape. No rescue. No solace. Not here. This is what it's about. Chase or be chased. Hunted or be hunted. Kill or be killed. With that, he knew what had to be done. He stirred, just enough to get their attention, and shifted about until he was positioned towards Bill, the closest to him. There was silence; then he shot out from under his creeper afghan, tackling Bill to the ground with out warning or second pause. Before any of then could realize what was happening, Bill had been thrown into Roger, his spear in Ralph's hands, and Ralph tore through the creepers and branches, out of sight.

"This is what they want…right? I'll give them this, then."

They…they wanted a beast. Something to hunt. To kill. To fulfill their bloodlust. Well, they can have it.

"I'll give them their 'beast.' I'll show them. They wouldn't listen. Not to me, not to Piggy."

So here's their beast.

"No. Not their beast. I am _the_ beast. My own beast."


End file.
